In the morning we wake. Up. We pack our things. We want to go explore the outside. There is a church made out of bones. So they say. I never heard about this. But I'm eager to see it. A bone-made church. Baidi had read about it somewhere online. Chinese travel net. Chinese are so organized.

We get a train ticket to Kutná Hora and leave. Outside Prague everything becomes colourless. It seems like the angels used a grey pallette when they painted the landscape . Occassionally rays of sunlight break through the clouds, spilling warm colour over our faces, the trees, fields, and settlements. W

We get off the train at the right station. We don't know where to go. There's other tourists. We just follow them.

An English couple knows the way. We try to make a conversation. But it doesn't work. Traveling together as a couple, you don't need to make any acquaintances. you will never meet again, so why pretend?

We find the church and enter. It is like entering a cave. Going downstairs, there are bones everywhere. The entire inside of the church is decorated with bones. The church itself, however, is made out of stone. Slight disappointed creeps into my ind. I expected the entire church to be made of bones. I have wrong information, as I think about it, it would be impossible to have a church made fully out of bones.

The place is interesting anyway. I'm reminded of the catacombs of the monastery in Lima. Underneath the earth all there are hundreds of thousands of, millions of, bones. Bones, bones, bones. Bones everywhere. This church is cute. Small and a lot of detail. We take about one hundred pictures.

I ask the guard whether they had problems with the restauration. No problems. Bones don't fall apart and always stay the same. The bones should to remind the faithful believers of mortality. Everybody has to die one day, no matter how rich or important, how boring or successful you become.

Catching a train back to Prague, we leave again. It is a grey day. Now the sun is setting. my lungs feel particular. I sense a fire inside of them. I don't know where it comes from.

We arrive at the Prague main stations and buy the tickets to Vienna. Then continue to explore the city, walk around everywhere.

At the hostel we ask the page where the trains to Vienna are leaving from. He points out a train station on the map and tells us how to get there. We follow his direction, but when we enter the train station, we find it deserted. No people. No trains. The next train is leaving only in the morning. We turn back to ask the young information guy. He seems to be drunk or high. He needs a while to form a word on his lips. Sounds are leaving his mouth. After a lengthy while he tells us that this is the wrong train station. We ask him how to get back now. He replies with a smile that there are no more subways and he doesn't know any other means. He tries to talk us into going by tram. At this point we have twenty minutes left until our train leaves and we know that there are no trams anymore.

Although it is expensive, we go outside the train station and take a taxi. The driver serves us with delight. He knows a few words in every language. He asks me about the Oktoberfest and other things in German. In the next moment he inquires of Baidi something about MAO. Occassionaly he looks up front in order to see how the traffic is on the road. A very funny guy. A very corpulent guy. His face is coated with a full beard. His hair is oily, his laugh wide and loud in the grant red face. Driving us directly to the entrance of the train station, he takes away all our unease. After negotiating and pressing the price down, we rush upstairs to the gates. Our train is waiting for us.

One part is going to slovakia. The other to Austria. Which one is the right one? We just enter.